


Eyes Like Smoldering Embers

by QueenOfPlotTwists



Series: Yu-Gi-Oh June 2020 Prompts [6]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Ancient Egyptian Setting so Cannonish, Caste/Darkshipping if you squint, Drabble Fic, Fea of Fire, Fire, Mentioned of past massacures but nothing too graphic, Mentions of Kul Eluna, Pyrophobia, Yu-Gi-Oh June Prompts 2020, fears, mentions of trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:42:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24572488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfPlotTwists/pseuds/QueenOfPlotTwists
Summary: Bakura has always hated fire.Its the one thing he's truly afraid of.Fire took everything from in, and even three thousand years later nearly ropped him of the one hope he had left.Bakura has no reason to care about fire...But a beautiful set of ember red eyes just might change his mind..Yu-Gi-Oh June Prompts Week One:Fire/Day 6: Embers
Series: Yu-Gi-Oh June 2020 Prompts [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1770298
Kudos: 3





	Eyes Like Smoldering Embers

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote this one a few days ago. 
> 
> It was the easiest prompt because i knew exactly what I wanted to write :)
> 
> And Bakura being afraid of fire is a personal headcannon of mine I share with Darkshipping Queen Orochi-Dragon 14. Love you girl!
> 
> Week One: Fire/Day 6: Embers

Eyes like Smoldering Embers

Bakura always hated fire.

It was the one thing that truly terrified him.

And not a simple jump of shock or a fearful possibility that left him timid but something that left him absolutely petrified.

It had ever since that day.

When a roaring conflagration burned his village to the ground like a giant, ravenous angry-eyed monster straight out of a nightmare. The red tongues of slimy yellow and orange licking the cauldron where the corpses of his friends, family and everyone he ever knew or held dear where throne into. Like the mouth of some cantankerous beast. The roaring red whirlwind that sent the black crown game shop up in smoke and nearly devoured the last Hope he had on this world for setting his people and possibly himself free. Like a demon summoned from his darkest nightmare to punish him for even daring to hope.

Yes, he hates fire.

Hated it.

Feared it.

Couldn’t even stand the smell of cooked meat.

For months after that dreaded day, his nightmares were consumed by flaming red-eyed monsters. Chasing him, eating him, sinking their sickly yellow and slimy orange fangs into his tender yong flesh until he woke up screaming and had to cry himself back to sleep.

The nightmares never truly stopped, though they did in time got better.

But for months, he couldn’t stand the sight of even the smallest flame.

Even as a small, helpless child he’d rather be curled up cold and in the dark than have a camp fire burning or even a lantern light.

Eventually however he’d learned there were different kinds of fire: lantern lights that guided him to safety in the dark, embers that kept him warm but never became a full-fledged flame, the torches that flooded even the darkest tunnels with light.

Those fires were alright.

Those fires were safe.

Anything else left him in a state of horror so fierce and terrible it froze his body to its very core:

It was a small miracle the guards and government never learned that secret: they could lock him up in the darkest dankest of underground cells or left him sweltering in the hottest and driest of the sand cells and he wouldn’t have cared less. They could’ve blinded him and he couldn’t have minded the darkness. They could’ve fed him to the crocodiles and he would’ve laughed in their faces. They could’ve had him quartered and gutted and he still would’ve laughed his way through the pain until he died.

But had they held a torch too close to his face, or threatened to press a hot poker against his skin, had they threatened to burn him alive at the stake: he would’ve kicked and screamed and pleaded like that same terrified child who ran from the howling red monster that had so savagely devoured his home.

But they hadn’t known.

Because only one person had known and kept it secret.

Bakura has always hated fire.

But embers he’d tolerated eventually even cook fires became less scary.

But he had never truly appreciated fire, never truly admired its beauty or its majesty, never tasted it’s richness or sweetness, never sampled its warmth or its bliss: no, he had never known any of it until he’d touched the warm skin, tasted the fiery lips and samples the hot, flaming temper that was the smoldering embers burning behind Prince Atem’s fiery red eyes.


End file.
